


Forge Fire

by squirenonny



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon Compliant aside from resurrecting Antok/Thace/Ulaz/Regris, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I mean there's references to minor/unnamed characters having died, Kolivan centric, No More Dead Blades AU, Season 5 compliant, Set after season 3/during season 4, alternates between past and present
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-03-29 06:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13921635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squirenonny/pseuds/squirenonny
Summary: Keith thought he’d passed the Trials of Marmora, but when he approaches Kolivan looking for information about his mother, he learns there are four more Trials to pass before he can call himself a Blade.Kolivan, Antok, and Thace watch as Keith undertakes the remainder of his Trials, and they remember their own Trials—a grueling ordeal from which no one emerges unchanged. They cannot aid him in the Trials, but they can help him prepare, and they can help him through the aftermath. After all, the Blades are kin, and kin does not let kin suffer alone.One part Dads of Marmora, one part Kolivan introspective.





	1. Master and Apprentice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my entry for the Galra Big Bang. I had the pleasure of being paired with [frarivers](http://frarivers.tumblr.com) and [thatcrimsonartist](http://thatcrimsonartist.tumblr.com). They've provided wonderful art for this fic, so thank you both! You'll find links to the rebloggable versions at the end of the relevant chapters.
> 
> This fic was written before season 5, but it's still basically canon compliant (aside from the part where all of the named Blades are alive...). It begins in the gap between seasons 3 & 4\. Enjoy!

Keith was smaller than any other Blade.

Kolivan had known this, of course. It was hard not to notice; the boy was smaller than most of his human teammates, and even the tallest among them scarcely came up to Kolivan’s shoulder. Keith was hardly larger than a pre-pubescent Galra kit, though he was an adult by the laws of his homeland.

But knowing how small Keith was, seeing his wiry frame weaving among the taller figures in the mess hall and training deck—none of that was the same as seeing him square off against Antok on the sparring grounds.

The match had drawn a considerable crowd, and not just because the smallest Blade at headquarters was facing off against one of the largest. It was a Trial match, and those always turned into a spectacle.

“Are you sure we should be letting him do this?” Thace asked, standing beside Kolivan on the observation deck. In here, the noise of the crowd was muted, but they could see the match from any angle, watching for signs of injury, of dishonesty in tactics, or anything else that might warrant the match being called early. It was Kolivan’s usual post during a Trial, and Thace was here today because he needed the distance. Kolivan knew this, and Thace must have, also, or he wouldn’t have accepted Kolivan’s invitation.

Not that Keith was likely to let them end the match early. He’d fought too hard for his right to undergo the remainder of the Trials to throw it away now.

“He is a Blade,” Kolivan said, tapping one claw against the hilt of Keith’s luxite knife, which he’d had to surrender at the start of this Trial. That, almost, had drawn a protest—he’d been told the second Trial was a duel against his Blademaster. And it was.

He simply hadn’t been told he would be dueling at a disadvantage.

“Besides,” Kolivan said, tilting his head so Thace could see his smirk. “You weren’t much bigger when you joined up.”

Thace bristled, his eyes narrowing like he was contemplating reminding Kolivan just how far he’d come since those early days. Fortunately Kolivan’s hide was saved by a particularly vicious blow from Antok. The man was holding back, his fondness for the kit clearly staying his hand, and Kolivan might not have allowed the match to stand if not for the fact that even at half strength, when Antok spun and drove his heel into Keith’s side, it flung him like a sack of kana grain to the far side of the sands.

Thace let out a hiss and didn’t start breathing again until Keith picked himself up off the ground. Kolivan might have teased him for it if his own heart hadn’t stopped at the blow. (He was _so small._ Kolivan had never been a father, but he imagined this was what other Blades meant when they spoke of that all-consuming fear, that irrational desire to take away anything that might hurt their young.)

“He’s a paladin of Voltron,” Kolivan said, trying to make it sound as though the words were meant for Thace alone. From the sidelong look he received in return, his own shakiness shone through.

“He is,” Thace admitted. “Which means if we send him back dead we’ll have the universe’s most powerful weapon out for our blood.”

Kolivan grimaced. “He’s not going to _die_ , Thace.”

“You say that now, and yet he’s up against Antok.”

“Who would happily coddle the boy if Keith didn’t throw a tantrum every time he tried.” Any of them would coddle the kit, in all likelihood. Keith had only been training with Antok for a phoeb, alternating his time between the Blade headquarters and the Castle of Lions, and he already had a dozen Blades clamoring to formally adopt him.

Thace paused, mouth snapping shut. “He doesn’t. _Tantrums?_ ”

As Keith dashed back across the sands, bloodied knuckles ready for another round of brawling with a man twice his size, Kolivan caught himself searching for signs of injury. He’d received quite the earful from the black paladin during the first Trial; apparently Keith had been more injured than he’d let on, and had lost enough blood for Shiro to be concerned.

You did not show weakness where the enemy could see. Give them that, and they could destroy you. Better to lie, to put on a brave face, to fight until the bitter end. It was an admirable trait, and one Kolivan could sympathize with.

Still, he would not make the same mistake a second time. Fighting through grave wounds was a tactic for the battlefield—not for the Trials. And Kolivan would not have a kit incapacitated on his watch a second time.

“Having second thoughts?” Thace asked slyly as Keith threw himself at Antok, narrowly avoiding a sword to the face and trying to grapple Antok to the ground. He was vicious and stubborn, and he actually managed to pull Antok out of stance for a moment, but it wasn’t enough. Antok seized him by the back of his thin, flexible armored suit and tossed him onto his back, where he slid ten feet backwards and raged at the stadium roof far overhead.

Kolivan turned to Thace, who looked some contradictory mixture of horrified, amused, and impressed.

“It’s not too late to call this whole farce off,” Thace said.

Kolivan sighed, pressing his thumb to the center of his forehead to stave off a headache. “ _You_ weren’t there when he demanded his right to the Trials.”

* * *

“ _This was my mom’s Blade.”_

_The red paladin had an edge of desperation to him, a frantic energy lurking beneath his skin. He held his Blade, inactive, in his palms, and his eyes kept sliding away as Kolivan tried to meet his gaze._

_Kolivan frowned. “It is yours now.”_

“No. _” Keith’s shoulders pulled up, his lips curling back in a snarl that he smoothed over with a shallow huff. “I mean, if this belonged to her, that means she was one of you. You knew her—or—or_ someone _here did. They must have--”_

_He cut off, uneven breaths making him seem frightened, though Kolivan had never known any of the paladins to be afraid without cause, and Keith least of all._

“ _I am sorry,” Kolivan said. “I can’t help you. For her to have gone to Earth, met your father, conceived you, and carried to term—she would have been gone for at least a decaphoeb. I have not known anyone to return to us after so long an absence. Not in your lifetime.”_

“ _Well—then—” Keith’s breath rushed out of him. “Is there anyone who was a Blade nineteen years ago? Someone who might have known her before? Can I talk to them?”_

_Kolivan saw the hunger behind Keith’s eyes and wondered how he would take it if the answers he found weren’t the ones he was hoping for. Nineteen years—was he really so young? Kolivan had hoped that was just his human heritage confusing Kolivan’s eye._

_With a sigh, Kolivan softened his voice. “I cannot tell you who my agents are. Many spy for us within the Empire, some, like Thace, directly below Zarkon or his witch. In order to safeguard their covers, we make it a rule not to speak of them with anyone outside our organization—even an ally.”_

_Keith looked up sharply. “But—I_ passed _the Trials. Didn’t I? You said I’d proved myself in awakening my Blade.”_

“ _You passed the_ first _Trial,” Kolivan said. “You are not yet a Blade.”_

_Brow furrowed, Keith stared down at his Blade. After a long moment, he looked up. “I want to undertake the rest of the Trials.”_

“ _It is not a small undertaking,” Kolivan warned. “The process takes phoebs, and I cannot conscience taking you away from your team for so long. The universe needs you.”_

“ _The universe needs_ Voltron _,” Keith said, exasperated. “As long as I can go when they need me, or—or if Shiro goes back to piloting the Black Lion—we can make it work.”_

_Kolivan considered this for a time, watching the muscles in Keith’s jaw jump. “And you? You will need to spend much of your time here. You will train here, sleep here, and only return to the others to fly into battle. Will you be well without your friends? It was my impression that humans need social support to thrive. Galra certainly do.”_

_Keith’s face darkened, something blank and unreadable washing across his features. “What I_ need _is answers. I’m not giving up until I get them.”_

* * *

Kolivan winced as Antok’s next attack caught Keith by surprise. He managed to dodge, but he had to drop to his knees to do so, the impact jarring his whole body. He was back on his feet the instant Antok’s blade cleared his head, but his face showed his pain.

“You could have turned him away,” Thace said quietly.

“Antok was very insistent he be allowed to train him.”

“Was he now?” Thace asked dryly.

Kolivan resisted the urge to fidget under Thace’s scrutiny. The man knew him too well—almost as well as Antok, who had been Kolivan’s partner for many decaphoebs and his staunchest ally for decaphoebs before that. It was futile to try to hide his curiosity regarding the red paladin from either of them, but that didn’t mean Kolivan wasn’t going to try.

On the sands, Keith continued his retreat until his back hit the wall. There he froze, his eyes going wide as Antok swung for his head.

Keith bared his teeth, waited for the last moment, then dropped low and kicked off the wall, tackling Antok around the waist. He’d timed it well; Antok was off-balance, and Keith actually managed to push him several steps backward before Antok caught himself and tossed Keith over his shoulder like a travel sack. Keith grunted in surprise, clawing at Antok’s arm.

“What the _hell!_ ” he snarled. “Put me down!”

Antok patted his leg, amusement plain in his voice. “Shall I also surrender so you may pass on to the next Trial without breaking a sweat?”

Kolivan chuckled as Keith responded with a string of truly inventive profanity. “Do you suppose anyone ever anticipates being asked to face this Trial unarmed?”

Thace’s face soured. “I don’t know, Kolivan, what do you tell them if they ask?”

“I never lied to you.”

“You said I would have my Blade!”

Kolivan turned forward, smiling to himself. Twenty decaphoebs gone, and Thace still held a grudge over this? Kolivan might have been impressed if he weren’t so endlessly amused. “You asked if you would have your Blade on the day of your Trial. And you did. Until the Trial started.” His gaze flicked sideways as Thace rumbled in consternation. “You might appreciate the joke better if you ever took up the mantle of Blademaster.”

“And if you weren’t such a stuffy old relic all the time, maybe I wouldn’t have felt so betrayed.” Thace’s tone was sour, but he, too, was smiling. For a moment, Kolivan was able to look past the fresh scars to the young stowaway, hardly more than a kit himself, who had turned up on this base so long ago, thirsting for greater things.

* * *

“ _What?!”_

_Thace’s shriek split the silence of the dueling grounds, and Kolivan couldn’t stop his grin. He often felt eons older than his twenty-seven decaphoebs, but this never failed to make him feel like a kit again. The outrage. The indignation. The sudden panic as the initiates realized the Trial they thought they’d been training for wasn’t the Trial they faced. It would be Antok who had come to collect Thace’s Blade, as Kolivan collected the Blade of each of Antok’s pupils on the day of their second Trial._

_He’d known Thace would kick up a fuss, and the kit did not disappoint, curses echoing out of the antechamber for several long dobashes until Antok’s growl cut them short._

_Kolivan’s grin widened when Thace stepped out onto the sands, unarmed, a moment later._

“ _You’re such a vrekking_ liar _,” Thace hissed, too low for the watching Blades to hear. He was five decaphoebs younger than Kolivan, thin and gangly from a recent growth spurt. He had a few fingers yet to grow before he reached his full adult height, but he carried himself with all the swagger of a veteran soldier._

_Or… he tried to. His claws opened and closed on empty air, already missing his Blade, and his grimace was one of stress and defiance, not his usual confidence. Someday, perhaps, he would realize that swordsmanship was not the point of this test. Kolivan had already deemed him a master of the Blade._

_This trial was about resourcefulness._

_Kolivan put on a stern face—the face of the exacting teacher Thace had known these last phoebs. “You who would know your limits,” he said solemnly, “prepare yourself.”_

_And just like that, Thace understood the challenge. Gone was the cocky kit ready to yowl about unfair treatment. In his place was a Blade: calm, watchful, wary. He kept his distance as Kolivan advanced, striking at Kolivan’s wrists with an open palm to deflect strikes that came too close for comfort. And always, always, his eyes were on his surroundings, scanning for anything he might use to his advantage._

_They kept the dueling grounds sparse—a few stones of various sizes scattered across the sands; pillars and platforms to provide varied terrain. Some of the fixtures around the bounds of the field could be pried loose and used as weapons. One particularly brash initiate had taken advantage of the Blade’s uniform and hidden among the spectators. Another had fled the dueling grounds, sprinted to the armory, and staked a claim on a small arsenal to use against her Blademaster._

_They’d since sealed the doors and dressed the initiates in armor more like that used for the first Trial, of course. Couldn’t make things too easy._

_Something over Kolivan’s left shoulder caught Thace’s attention, and he froze just long enough for Kolivan to land a solid hit. The armor covering Thace’s midsection cracked, and he skidded backward, wheezing. He came to a stop ten paces away, clutching his ribs, and held up a hand as Kolivan approached._

“ _Giving up?” Kolivan asked, surprised and a little disappointed. Had he put too much force into that last strike? Thace wasn’t usually one to admit defeat._

_It happened sometimes, of course. The second Trial was designed to catch challengers off-guard, to put them at a steep disadvantage. Not everyone who undertook this Trial was ready for that. It was a mark against them, but a relatively minor one, assuming they passed on their second attempt._

_(Of course, they were denied their Blade in the interim, and the second attempt typically came in the middle of the night-cycle with no advance warning. They_ did _still have to prove themselves capable of thinking on their feet.)_

 _Thace shook his head vehemently, breathing hard. “Just—a clarification. Is there anything I’m_ not _allowed to do?”_

 _Kolivan smiled to himself._ That _was the kit he’d trained for half a decaphoeb. “I would prefer it if you didn’t actually kill me. Beyond that, you may do whatever it takes to force me to yield.”_

_Thace looked up, eyes blazing. “Perfect.”_

_He was off before Kolivan had time to worry about what mad plan he’d just okayed. He braced himself for an attack, but Thace swerved around him, moving far more nimbly than his earlier display of pain would have suggested. Kolivan was too slow to stop him scampering up one of the towering stone pillars, claws leaving shallow scars in the surface. When he reached the top, he leaped, and Kolivan’s heart leaped with him. Both hung suspended for a long moment as Kolivan waited for Thace to come crashing to the ground._

_Then his claws caught in a grate on the ceiling. He swung there for a moment, his legs scrabbling at empty air before he hauled himself up into the vents and disappeared._

_Kolivan lowered his sword, scowling at the ceiling. “What does he think_ that _will accomplish?”_

_It was mere moments before Kolivan had his answer, courtesy of Vexus, one of the officiators watching from the observation deck—a precaution, in part, against just this sort of nonsense._

“ _Uh… Kolivan? Your kit’s got his claws on a line to the main reactor. He’s threatening to blow the whole base if you don’t surrender.”_

_Kolivan stared, dumbstruck, at the place where Thace had vanished. “Can he do that?”_

“ _In theory…? I mean, he’d have to know how to reroute the power in such a way that the fail-safes don’t recognize the problem until the reactor’s already into red, so it’s not like he could just—”_

“ _Vexus?” Kolivan said, incredulity turning to a grudging respect. “I feel compelled to remind you that Thace overwrote the security features on one of our ships so no one knew he was there until he popped out of the cargo hatch like a scrimling sitting on a hoard of ration bars—and he did it from a damaged holopad twenty decaphoebs out of date.”_

_Vexus fell silent. “Point taken. …What do you want to do?”_

_Kolivan shook his head, a laugh bubbling up out of him. “What else can I do?” he asked, then tossed his sword down on the sand. “I yield. Well played, Thace.”_

* * *

Keith was not Thace. Not by any means. But he was fierce and he didn’t give up easily, and his small stature made people underestimate him. Kolivan had seen it time and again when he trained against the other Blades, and it seemed even Antok was not immune.

His howl the first time Keith got his hand on Antok’s tail and yanked was that artful blend of shock and dismay that ensured Antok would not soon live down this fight—and Keith’s answering grin had Thace laughing into his hand.

Antok redoubled his efforts to end the duel after that, but Keith had found his stride, ducking between pillars and dropping off platforms with impeccable timing, then darting into the slimmest opening to give Antok’s tail another yank. Before long it was lashing, the motion sharp with indignation, and all trace of Antok’s amusement was long gone.

Keith was smirking, though, clearly enjoying antagonizing his Blademaster. (A time-honored tradition in the Blade of Marmora, if ever there was one.)

The next time Keith darted forward, Antok was ready for him, spinning into a slash that might have decapitated another opponent.

Not Keith.

He turned, fluid, and ducked beneath Antok’s Blade, seizing his wrist as it passed.

Antok yelped as Keith bit down on his hand—bit down and drew blood, if Kolivan wasn’t mistaken, which was an impressive feat considering his species’ pitiful excuse for canines. Antok’s grip on his Blade weakened, and Keith ripped it away, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip.

From there, it was only a matter of time. Antok put on a good show, but Keith was as near a prodigy with a sword as Kolivan had ever known, and he quickly had Antok cornered, the tip of his stolen Blade pressed to Antok’s throat.

Kolivan chuckled as Antok yielded the duel, then pulled Keith into a rough embrace. Keith squawked, flailing as Antok tousled his hair, but Antok paid his protests no mind.

Kolivan glanced at Thace, who shook his head in utter disbelief. “All right,” Thace said, raising his hands. “You’re right. He’ll fit right in.”


	2. Brothers in Arms

It was nearly a phoeb before Kolivan approved Keith’s next Trial, and even that was too soon for Kolivan’s comfort. Splitting time between the Blades and Voltron meant that Keith was always short on sleep and usually recovering from an injury. He could have healed any of them in the castle-ship’s medical pods, but he preferred to recover at Blade headquarters, even with their inferior tech. Keith claimed he didn’t want to develop a dependence on cryopods, but Kolivan could hardly fail to notice the overwhelming trend toward avoidance: avoidance of his fellow humans, avoidance of the castle-ship, avoidance of any discussion that might have touched on his self-inflicted isolation.

Not that Kolivan would have expected the kit to talk to him. Antok was in charge of his training; Thace had earned Keith’s respect during the assault on Zarkon’s flagship; and some of the younger Blades, including Regris, their newest recruit, had tried to draw him into the shifting social circles of the base.

Kolivan was merely the Leader, stoic and withdrawn. A voice of judgment and the source of orders, not a compassionate ear. Many in the Blade felt the same.

Nevertheless, Keith refused each overture of friendship, choosing instead to spend his time training or, increasingly, trying to steal a few hours of sleep before he was needed back on the Castle of Lions.

Kolivan’s gut churned watching his slow decline, and finally one day he pulled Antok aside after a particularly brutal sparring session that left Keith limping, his face flushed with more than exertion as he stalked off the training and headed for his quarters.

“How is he?” Kolivan asked, watching Keith go.

Antok was still for a long moment, his silence speaking to concern. “He is a skilled swordsman and a quick thinker.”

Kolivan said nothing. Antok knew full well that wasn’t what Kolivan had been asking, so Kolivan felt no need to acknowledge his attempt at deflection.

After a moment, Antok sighed. “He’s working himself to the bone, Kolivan. I would say he’s ready for the next Trial except I’m worried that in his current condition, he’d collapse halfway through.”

Kolivan closed his eyes, accepting the statement like a physical blow. He’d expected something of the sort, but he couldn’t help but hope for better news. How many Blades had he seen punish themselves like this? Too many, and it never got easier—especially when the Blade in question was as young as Keith. “Would he agree to rest for a few days if we move forward with the Trials?”

“Not likely,” Antok said. “He likes to be prepared, and inaction grates at him even under the best of circumstances.”

Kolivan growled deep in his throat in mingled frustration and concern. It was rare for the Blade of Marmora to accept initiates as young as Keith—not for lack of passion, but for lack of patience. Kits raged against Zarkon’s machine, and in their rage destroyed themselves. It was only those who survived long enough for rage to burn down to coals who could bear the weight that came with the Blade’s mandate. Watch, wait, survive.

Keith’s rage still blazed as bright as a supernova, his stubbornness and his thirst to make a change bordering on desperation. Kolivan had known many who were the same. In some, the desperation was born of guilt over past actions, in some, grief. Some simply clung to the Blade’s mission because everything else had been torn from bloodied hands.

Antok had been like that, once. He still sometimes pushed harder than Kolivan would have liked, despite his decaphoebs in the Blade’s forge, tempering his spirit like steel. It worried Kolivan—even more so in Keith. Those who refused to master their passion invariably wound up dead. Kolivan didn’t want to see Keith join those ranks.

“You understand the kit in a way I cannot,” Kolivan said, searching Antok’s mask as though he might strip it away if he only looked hard enough. “What would you suggest?”

“Let him undergo the Trial,” Antok said, “but give him only one night’s warning. He’s not the type to self-sabotage.”

“No?” Kolivan crossed his arms. “He’s been sleeping then?”

Antok hesitated. “He will sleep if he knows he must fight in the morning. I’m sure of it. He rarely pushes himself further than I would.”

Kolivan appreciated the honesty in this statement, though it came at the cost of comfort. Antok had a history of self-destruction, and the fact was he was more solidly built than Keith.

Antok’s tail curled around Kolivan’s waist, pulling him close. “Kolivan,” Antok said. “I know you want to protect him, but he’s stronger than he seems. He’s ready for this.”

“Is he? You know once he passes this Trial he’ll have to start joining us on missions.”

“Little missions.” Antok held up his hand, claws hovering a hair’s breadth apart. “And he’ll have you there to grab him by the scruff when he charges off like a yupper off its leash.” This teased a smile out of Kolivan, short lived though it was. Antok tilted his head to the side, his tail squeezing tighter. “Is this about Tievok?”

Kolivan’s throat closed, emotions rising to choke him. He pulled away from Antok, muffling the drumbeat of his heart with an irritated growl. His face, he knew, was stony and cold. Antok didn’t deserve that, but Kolivan couldn’t make himself care when old wounds were reopening beneath his hands.

“We’ll begin the Trial at dawn,” he said, voice clipped. “Make sure Keith knows to be rested.”

* * *

_Kolivan woke with Tievok’s name on his lips. His eyes flew open, and he lurched upright, hand fumbling for the bedside unit, where he kept a small pistol. His fist closed on a leaf, bringing his murky thoughts to an abrupt halt as he blinked at the leaf, which was colored a pale blue and slick with rainwater. He could hear it, now that he was aware of himself: the steady drip of raindrops on the canopy and the occasional wet squelch of an unseen creature traipsing through the mud._

_This was not a Galra cruiser._

_Kolivan shook his hand to dislodge the leaf, then threw back the thin emergency blanket that had pooled in his lap. He didn’t remember digging it out of their scant supplies last night, when they’d finally put the sounds of pursuit behind them and collapsed in the underbrush. Antok must have--_

_Antok, who had taken up watch some dozen paces away, turned at that moment, and Kolivan froze as their eyes met. The events of the previous day flooded back into his mind, killing the greeting on his tongue. Antok seemed to collapse into himself, his broad shoulders hunched, his face pinched in guilt and sorrow and grief._

He has no right to mourn _._

_The thought rose unbidden in Kolivan’s mind, and he shoved it down. This wasn’t Antok’s fault. None of it. (And even if it was, it didn’t matter. They were fugitives now, traitors of the Empire, wanted for theft, murder, conspiracy, and stars alone knew what else. They’d crashed their stolen ship into this jungle, then had to abandon even that as Imperial hunters swarmed the wreckage. Antok was the only help Kolivan had available, and working together was their only chance at getting off this planet.)_

“ _Kolivan,” Antok said, his voice cracking. The pinch of his brows, the way his tail lashed against a fern as he inched forward, reminded Kolivan of their cadet days. Antok had always been tall for his age, and in between bouts of impulsiveness, he seemed not to know what to do with himself._

_They were no longer kits, and Antok had grown into his body, but the uncertainty remained—as did the recklessness. Their superior officers had praised his bloodlust, called him a rising star. Tievok had laughed at that, then goaded Antok into ever-more-daring games of petty rebellion. Ditching classes, defacing officers’ quarters, reprogramming service drones, spreading anonymous memos that ridiculed Command through the ship’s network._

_Kolivan turned, brushing off Antok’s outstretched hand. An apology was building behind Antok’s teeth, but Kolivan couldn’t stomach it. Not now. Not today._

“ _Come on,” he growled, picking a direction at random and setting off. “Let’s see how damned we are.”_

* * *

“Do you think he’s dead yet?” Regris asked.

Kolivan glanced at the external monitors and found the young Blade leaning on his sword like it was a walking stick and not a weapon. His tail had found some pebbles in the underbrush, and he was amusing himself by trying to juggle them. It wasn’t going well.

“He’s not dead,” Thace said, rubbing his forehead. He was with Kolivan and Ulaz in the jungle base’s command room, monitoring the Trial and ready to respond to any alarm Keith might raise in his infiltration. Regris and Antok were positioned at two of the base’s entrances, and Ulaz was tasked with monitoring the drones, scanners, and other automatic defenses they had to monitor the perimeter.

Antok was insistent that all three layers of security would be needed. He said Keith was smart enough not to walk into a trap, cunning enough to exploit the base’s weaknesses, and stubborn enough that he would punch through any trouble he encountered.

Kolivan wasn’t convinced. He’d run this Trial many times before, both as Leader and as one of the twenty or so grunts staffing the false Imperial base, and he knew just how many things could go wrong. The forgotten moon they’d claimed to house the Third Trial was host to several large predators, as well as venomous insects, rough terrain, and volatile weather. Getting to the base from the simulated crash site was a test of endurance that took even the most accomplished Blades hours.

Keith was young, and small, and unfamiliar with the dangers of the universe. He reminded Kolivan too much of himself when he’d broken with the Empire as a youth, and the trek across another alien jungle had nearly killed both Kolivan and Antok before they finally found a sparsely guarded Imperial fighter, stole it, and made their escape.

“Are you sure he’s not dead?” Regris asked, an impatient sigh coloring his voice. “It’s been eight vargas.”

Kolivan clenched his jaw, ignoring the looks Thace and Ulaz were pinning him with. “Is your memory truly that short, Regris? It wasn’t so long ago you were in Keith’s place.”

Regris dropped the pebbles he’d been fiddling with, his spine straightening. “I only took six vargas,” he muttered.

Kolivan swallowed a growl, forcing himself to breathe. Ulaz started to say something, but Kolivan cut him off with a glare. He knew well enough where that conversation would take them. They shouldn’t have let Keith undergo this Trial. They should have postponed it.

The paladins had called for Keith late last night. A distress beacon from one of the planets Voltron had visited recently. A heavy assault that four lions couldn’t easily match alone. Keith had gone without rousing Kolivan or Antok, though he’d left a curt message with the man on watch in the hangars. _They need me. I’ll be back in time for the Trial._

And he had been—barely. He’d had just two hours of sleep, the paladin armor he’d traded for his Marmora suit was cracked and bloodied, and he walked with a limp he couldn’t wholly disguise, but he would hear no suggestion of rescheduling.

It had nearly come to blows, Antok hovering over the kit and trying to talk him down with a low, keening voice that sharpened Keith’s words. Guilt and fear still ran hot in Antok, pressing ever nearer the surface the more time he spent with Keith, and Kolivan thought he might well have physically restrained Keith to keep him from attempting this Trial.

Kolivan had stepped in then, ending the argument. He had allowed Keith to attempt the Trial, hoping he could trust the kit to know his limits. He carried an emergency beacon with him that, if activated, would alert Kolivan to his location and open a comms channel between them. Ulaz had a ship ready to retrieve him and administer emergency medical aid—and if Keith were to actually activate the beacon, it would be an emergency.

Now, vargas later, Kolivan had to wonder if he’d made a mistake. Keith was stubborn, and some of the perils of the jungle could render him unable to send for help. He could be dead at this very moment, bleeding out while Kolivan went about his business, blissfully unaware.

“Focus, Regris,” Kolivan snapped. “For all you know, Keith is waiting us out, hoping we’ll grow complacent.”

Antok barked a laugh, which he quickly covered in a cough. He didn’t say what they were all no doubt thinking: Waiting for eight vargas so the guards got sloppy was a fine tactic for a Blade to use. Kolivan had employed it once or twice; Thace and Ulaz were both masters of the long con. But Keith? He’d sooner charge in through the front doors.

But Keith had surprised Kolivan before. He knew the purpose of this test, and that his battle prowess was not being evaluated here. He was skilled. He was resourceful. The Blade already acknowledged both facts. The Third Trial was designed to test his stealth first and foremost, his ability to survive and gather information secondly. Third and least imperative, this Trial evaluated his talent for infiltration.

Not everyone would make it to the heart of the base. Fewer still succeeded in extracting the information contained on the base’s main computer. Of those present today, only Thace had made it that far. Infiltration was a skill that could be taught in the field; to pass, initiates only had to make it to the base undetected.

It was possible Keith was taking these instructions to heart. It was possible he had reigned in his usual instincts and was taking time to evaluate his options.

It was possible, but Kolivan didn’t like the odds.

He turned to Ulaz, ignoring the tension pulling at his core. “Any sign of him?”

“None,” Ulaz said. “Though I should point out—he’s smaller than anyone else we’ve put through this Trial in recent years. Smaller than several species native to this planet. If he takes the time to observe their movements, he could very easily slip past most of the sensors.”

Or he could have run up against one of the larger predators and found himself unable to fight it off.

Ulaz continued to watch Kolivan with a steady gaze, concern pinching the corners of his eyes. “Should we abort?”

“No,” Kolivan said, the word pulling at his gut. “I told him he had until sundown. He still has two more vargas.”

Ulaz nodded and turned back to his station, though Thace continued to watch Kolivan. Outside, Regris was making a concentrated effort to remain on alert, his Blade back in its sheath but his hand hovering nearby. He scanned the foliage around him, eyepieces on his helmet glowing brightly in the slowly fading light.

Antok shifted his weight. “I’m going to go looking for him.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort, Antok,” Kolivan said, halting the other man in his tracks. “Weren’t you the one who told me how capable Keith is? And that he takes great offense to any implication that he’s not good enough?”

Antok wavered, his hands dropping to his side. “Yes, but--”

“He is your student, Antok, but he is not your kit. Let him pass or fail on his own merit.”

That was, perhaps, a step too far, but it silenced Antok and kept him at his post, and that was good enough for Kolivan. The best thing they could do now was follow protocol. This Trial had been run for generations, refined and streamlined. It was not without risks, of course—few things in the Blade of Marmora were—but there had only been one death in all the decaphoebs Kolivan had been in the Blade of Marmora.

Ten more dobashes passed, the Blades keeping silent watch. The tension in the air was palpable, plucking at Kolivan’s nerves as he counted his breaths. He called for a special patrol along a stretch of the perimeter where a rise in the land provided more substantial cover for Keith to exploit.

When the report came back negative, Antok huffed. “Kolivan.”

Kolivan closed his eyes. “Don’t--”

A shadow dropped from the ceiling at the corner of Kolivan’s vision, violet and blue lights blazing like cold fire. Thace gave a shout; Ulaz leaped to his feet and vaulted over his computer station, Blade in hand. Kolivan drew his own as the shadow charged, keeping low to the ground. He ducked under Ulaz’s first strike, then brought his Blade up to meet Kolivan. His balance was off, however, and he skidded backward, stumbling over Thace’s chair.

He sprang backward as Thace tried to take advantage of the distraction, but he landed awkwardly, his breath hissing from his lungs.

Kolivan stopped, Thace and Ulaz following suit immediately.

“Well done, Keith,” Kolivan said, letting a smile touch his lips even as his attention locked on Keith’s injured leg. The armor there was badly damaged—he _had_ run into trouble, and it had only compounded whatever minor injury he’d had when all this started.

Keith growled, dropping back into a ready stance. “I’m not done yet,” he said, charging forward. Outnumber, injured, facing down enemies twice his size, he still charged, roaring a challenge. Kolivan would have been impressed if he wasn’t too busy trying to figure out how to end the fight without injuring Keith further.

Ulaz made the decision for him, sliding silently into the space between Keith and Kolivan. He deflected Keith’s Blade, then swept his legs out from under him. Thace placed his foot on Keith’s Blade, and Kolivan crouched down by his head, settling his sword lightly against Keith’s collarbone.

“Yield,” he said.

Keith tugged at his Blade once, tension riding high in his shoulders. “No,” he growled.

Kolivan hesitated. “What?”

“I said no. I don’t yield. I haven’t completed the mission.”

“A mission very much stacked against you,” Ulaz pointed out. “You should be proud of your performance here today. You made it farther than many of our number.”

Keith’s head lolled to the side, the mask still obscuring his face and whatever turbulence it showed. His body was still tense, his hand still stubbornly clinging to his Blade. He murmured something too low to make out, and Thace leaned down, frowning.

“What was that?”

Keith’s head whipped around, meeting Thace’s eyes. “Knowledge or Death.” With the words, Keith’s Blade reverted to its dagger form, and Keith was able to wrest it out from under Thace’s foot. At the same moment, his other hand slipped under Kolivan’s Blade, forcing it away from his neck. He spun, kicking out at Ulaz, and just managed to gain his feet before Kolivan’s patience ran out.

Sheathing his Blade, Kolivan stepped inside Keith’s guard, grabbed his wrist, and twisted until he dropped his weapon. “Yield,” he said again, his voice dangerous. When Keith didn’t respond, Kolivan spun him around, twisting his hand toward his spine and forcing him to the ground. “You have lost, Keith. I am not asking you to yield. I am ordering you to stop before we are forced to hurt you.”

Keith grunted, breath rushing out of him as Kolivan leaned his knee into the small of his back. “Fine,” he spat. “Yield.”

Kolivan backed off at once, and Ulaz took his place, helping Keith up and into a chair, where he began looking him over for life-threatening injuries.

Kolivan went to retrieve Keith’s Blade, sighing as he caught Thace’s eyes. There was something deeply unsettling about hearing his own words turned back on him, the motto of the Blade of Marmora turned into something self-destructive and dangerous. He took a moment to settle his raging emotions, then went to where Keith sat and crouched so they were on a level.

“Knowledge is important,” he said, holding out Keith’s Blade. “And our organization has come this far in part because of those who died for the cause. We honor them—but we _do not_ seek to emulate them. Our motto is a warning. Without knowledge, we die. Know yourself, know your enemy.” Keith cautiously reached out and took hold of his Blade, but Kolivan held it a moment longer, meeting Keith’s eyes as Ulaz deactivated his helmet. “Most importantly, know when to remove yourself from a situation. Do not throw your life away prematurely. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Leader,” Keith muttered, dropping his gaze. Kolivan released his grip on Keith’s Blade, and Keith pulled it into his lap, tracing the glyph on the blade as Ulaz continued his examination. Kolivan remained where he was for a moment, committing the lines of Keith’s face to memory. Now that Antok had made the connection to Tievok, Kolivan couldn’t unsee it. They had the same fire, the same futile rage when they found themselves helpless.

Kolivan couldn’t bear the thought of watching Keith go the same way as Tievok.

He stood, breathing out slowly. “Good. Now, regardless of the way this Trial ended, you _did_ fulfill the requirements laid out for you. As soon as Ulaz clears you for active rotation, we will begin your field training.” Kolivan touched his brow and bowed his head. “Congratulations, brother.”

Thace and Ulaz echoed this statement, though Ulaz did so without pausing in his ministrations. Antok echoed over the comms, his voice thrumming with relief and pride. He would be on his way here now, both to congratulate Keith in person and to reassure himself that the kit was safe.

Regris sounded nearly as wound up himself. “Nice one, Keith! How’d you do it?”

“Air ducts,” Keith said. “Got the idea from Pidge. Galra usually build them big enough for humans to crawl through.”

“Scrawny humans, maybe,” Regris teased, making Keith grumble. Regris laughed. “Oh, come on, runt! You know we love your teeny arms.”

Kolivan retreated to stand with Thace as Regris continued to tease Keith over the comms. Antok came loping in a few minutes later, snatching Keith away from Ulaz’s care and lifting him off his feet in a hug. Keith wheezed from the force of it, but he was smiling as an irate Ulaz punched Antok’s arm and pulled him off of Keith.

He was alive. Kolivan clung to that knowledge as he watched Keith’s tension unspool, tentative laughter rising in its place. Keith was alive, at least for now, and Kolivan would be able to watch over him moving forward. That wasn’t enough to settle the demons plaguing Kolivan’s thoughts, but it was something to hold to. Kolivan could make do with that.


	3. Battle Shock

_Know when to remove yourself from a situation_.

Of all the things Kolivan had said out of frustration, he never would have imagined this would be the one that came back to haunt him.

Keith had left the paladins. Surrendered his place on the team to Shiro and cut all ties. He returned not a varga after he’d left to answer their call for aid, a small bag slung over his shoulder, his eyes downcast and void of emotion, and declared that he would be staying with the Blade full-time moving forward.

He had not done well since.

“Keith. A moment.”

Keith drew up short at the hangar door, his fingers twitching the way they did when he was confronted with an enemy and itched to arm himself. He didn’t turn, though he tensed by fractions as Kolivan approached.

Kolivan took a moment to look him over before he spoke again. They’d just returned from another mission, their third since Keith had left the paladins. He had performed to his usual standards during the mission, but his steps had begun to drag as soon as they pulled back, and Kolivan couldn’t say if it was the pervasive exhaustion that dogged his every step or if he’d been injured and was trying to hide it.

Keith’s head twitched toward Kolivan, but he stopped himself from looking.

“You didn’t activate your Blade today,” Kolivan said. “Is anything wrong?”

Keith very nearly flinched at that, then thrust his jaw out and spun, meeting Kolivan’s eyes. “The dagger has its advantages,” he said. “It’s faster and more agile, especially in close quarters, like the corridors of a Galra ship.”

“True.” Kolivan inclined his head. “When was the last time you activated your Blade?”

Keith’s face hardened. Likely he knew the answer as well as Kolivan did. He hadn’t activated his Blade once since leaving the paladins. The method by which the Blades were forged was an ancient secret, entrusted to only a handful of Blades in each generation. Even Kolivan only knew the basics of it—but he knew the weapons were imbued with Quintessence that made them sensitive to their weilders’ internal state. Galra blood was needed to bond with the Blade, but it could only be activated when its master was fully committed to a cause.

Keith lifted his chin, a goading light in his eye. “Have I failed to perform my duties as a Blade?” he asked.

“No.” Kolivan crossed his arms. He had to be careful about this—with Keith more than most. “You continue to exceed expectations.”

“Then what does it matter?”

“You are pushing yourself too hard.”

Keith’s lips tightened. “I can take care of myself.”

_You don’t have to._

Kolivan held his tongue, and Keith took a step back. He waited to see if Kolivan would stop him, then turned and stalked away, his arms wrapping around himself. Kolivan watched him go, so he saw when Regris appeared from another corridor, still limping slightly from the explosion that had nearly killed him—the second time in under a phoeb that Keith had saved his life. He called out to Keith, then joined him, chatting easily while Keith watched him suspiciously. If Regris had been fond of the kit before, he was downright doting now.

Kolivan would have been happier about that if it hadn’t meant that Regris kept adopting more and more of Keith’s reckless tendencies. He’d survived so far on luck and Keith’s own stubborn loyalty, and neither could sustain him

forever.

When the day finally came that Keith couldn’t find a way to save a comrade, Kolivan suspected he would be burying two more brothers.

* * *

Life in the Blade of Marmora was dangerous. They all knew it, and they accepted that risk. Kolivan had lost a great many friends over the decaphoebs. He’d held some as they died. He’d left others behind, the knowledge that he couldn’t save them sitting heavy in his gut. Still others had simply vanished quietly into the cold expanse of space, lost somewhere between one check-in and the next.

It never stopped hurting, but he’d learned to transform his pain into action. To improve the training his men, his _brothers_ , underwent to prepare them for the fight. To expand the Blade’s intelligence network so the mission never took them by surprise.

Knowledge or death. A warning, not only for the Blades who carried out missions, but for Kolivan himself. Arm them with knowledge, or bear their deaths on your shoulders.

Kolivan did what he could to bring them home, but it wasn’t possible to save everyone. This was war, and they were soldiers. There was no reality in which they all lived to see the peace that waited beyond Zarkon’s regime.

Sometimes, though—Sometimes the universe smiled on him. Sometimes it plucked someone from the jaws of death and sent them home.

* * *

_Thace was dead. Kolivan knew it intrinsically. He felt it in his bones. He’d trained Thace himself, and he knew Thace prized reliability above all else. He followed the Blade’s rules, he maintained his cover flawlessly. He took risks sometimes, yes, but never carelessly._

_And he never failed to contact Kolivan when he said he would._

_Kolivan could see all too easily how it had happened. Thace had taken a tremendous risk in helping Voltron escape Zarkon’s clutches. A necessary risk, to be sure; Kolivan would never claim that his life, or Thace’s, or the entire Blade of Marmora, was more important than the paladins and Lions of Voltron. But the risk, however necessary, had caught up with Thace in the end._

_Kolivan didn’t waste the energy wondering how much information the witch had drawn out of Thace before he died. There was still a battle to be fought, and Thace had passed the Fourth Trial easily. He knew the magic that let Haggar delve into his mind, and he knew how to counteract it._

_So, no. Kolivan didn’t fear the implications of Thace’s discovery. He only mourned the man he’d loved like a blood brother, and then he focused on keeping the rest of his men safe._

_Enter Keith._

_Keith—young, fragile, ignorant Keith. Passionate, stubborn, unflinching Keith. Kolivan was not afraid of what Thace’s discovery might mean until Keith stepped forward to complete Thace’s work. Kolivan would have fought the proposal; Antok had nearly gotten physical. But Keith was not a Blade, not yet. He was a paladin, and once Shiro and the princess approved the mission, there was nothing Kolivan could to do stop it._

_He mourned the young man, the child of an unknown Blade, even before he reached Zarkon’s ship._

_But Keith didn’t die alone and in agony within the hull of an enemy vessel. He returned—dragging Thace home with him._

__

_Kolivan would never forget the image. It was burned into his eyelids, carved into his dreams. Thace, bloodied and burned, the light in his eyes dull enough to stop Kolivan’s heart in his chest. He leaned heavily on Keith, who set his jaw and bore Thace’s weight without complaint, despite the ache tattooed across his skin. The black paladin was missing, plucked from the cockpit of his lion as the castle made its retreat, and still Keith went out of his way to bring Thace home. (Loyal to a fault, Keith was, and maddeningly stubborn, even before he became Kolivan’s headache to nurse.)_

“ _Thace.” The word escaped on a rush of air, echoed by a muttered curse from Antok, who had had a close call of his own in the earlier battle. He should have been resting—in fact Ulaz had trailed him here from the med bay, complaining all the while about aggravating his injuries—but Kolivan would not condemn either of them to ignorance with the rumors of Thace’s survival flying thick in the air._

_Thace lifted his head, smiling faintly. “My apologies, Leader,” he said, a teasing slant softening the sandpaper pain in his voice. “It would seem I made an error in judgment.”_

_Tears closed Kolivan’s throat, and he surged forward, relieving Keith of his burden. Despite the muscle he’d built over the course of his training, Thace still felt light as a dream and fragile as a secret, and it took all of Kolivan’s self-control not to lift him like a kit and bundle him off to more secure quarters._

“ _Error in judgment my ass,” Antok said, pulling Thace’s other arm around his neck. “I think you’re getting yourself confused with Ulaz.”_

_Ulaz’s lips tightened, but he didn’t dispute the accusation. His was another miraculous return, though the danger had been long past by the time Kolivan realized how close he’d come to sacrificing himself. Thace arched an eyebrow at Kolivan._

“ _Sounds like I’ve missed a few things.”_

“ _A few,” Kolivan agreed. “But we should get you to the med bay before Ulaz snaps.” Kolivan turned to thank Keith again for bringing Thace home, but the boy had vanished somewhere on silent feet. Heart aching, Kolivan stared at the empty doorway. He would have to find a way to repay this debt. Perhaps by helping the paladins locate their own missing brother and bring him home._

_Antok’s claws trailed along Kolivan’s arm, a feather’s touch that brought his attention back to the here and now. Ulaz was neck-deep in a preliminary examination of Thace, asking so many questions neither of them had time to mind Kolivan’s distraction, though Kolivan wasn’t naive enough to think either of them was ignoring him completely._

_Antok caught his eye and tipped his head to the side in silent question. Kolivan shook his head. The matter of Keith was a conundrum better saved for another day. Antok and Thace both needed medical attention, and Kolivan wouldn’t be able to sleep until he knew for certain they were both well._

_With Kolivan and Antok supporting Thace, and Ulaz continuing his examination as they walked, the four Blades made their way back to the castle’s medical bay and then on to the living quarters they had been granted for as long as they were here. Coran had given them their choice of rooms on this floor—there were two dozen of them, and hardly so many people on board now that the paladins would have need of them._

_Antok found them one of the larger suites, and they piled in together. Tonight was not a night to be alone, not after nearly losing two of their own. Not when they were all battered and shaken. Tonight they needed companionship, so when Ulaz and Antok had gathered the bedding from the storage closet in the hall and pillows from the neighboring rooms, not even Thace chose the room’s one bed. He settled himself in the center of the nest, Ulaz sitting watch nearby._

_Antok removed his mask with the rest of his armor and settled in close to Thace, then noticed Kolivan still standing at the edge of the nest. He wrinkled his nose, his scars puckering as he did so, and curled his tail around Kolivan’s waist, pulling him down to the floor to join the others. Kolivan went willingly, one hand coming up to trace Antok’s scars, the other reaching across him to touch Thace’s arm. He’d almost lost them both today, two of the most important people in his life, and he needed this as much as they did. He needed to remind himself that the worst hadn’t happened._

“ _We’re together,” Antok said, his voice rumbling in Kolivan’s chest, stirring up a lifetime’s store of memories. “What happened died with yesterday," he said, echoing the maxim his own Blademaster had taught him. "What will happen will wait for morning. For now there is this.”_

“ _That is enough for me,” Kolivan said, smiling as Thace gripped his forearm in agreement. They drifted off one by one, lulled by the sound of familiar breathing._

* * *

“Are you aware what you’re about to do?” Thace asked, every line of him taut as he stood with Antok and Kolivan to see Keith off to the Fourth Trial. That he was here at all was a wonder; his time as a spy and his pain at the hands of Haggar and her druids had forever changed Thace, and he still couldn’t stomach being in the same room as that magic.

Orva understood. She still carried a heavy mantle of guilt for what she’d done under Haggar’s command, though it had been nearly eight decaphoebs since she’d defected. The druids were a cruel, brutal organization, and Haggar didn’t suffer reluctance in her pupils. Orva had tortured and killed the enemies of the Empire, as had many other Blades—but she’d done it with magic ordinary men couldn’t combat. Magic that could shatter a mind.

She understood Thace’s reluctance to be near her, and she didn’t begrudge him for it. Thace, in turn, trusted the vows she’d sworn when she joined the small cell of druids living with the Blade. There were always two or three of them, in case the worst happened, and they spent time at outlying bases by turns to refresh Blades’ training and to safeguard against an attack on headquarters.

Thace and Orva were brothers in arms, even now, even after all Thace had suffered. The Blade was stronger than Zarkon’s efforts to break them. But Thace could not face the sight of someone, even a friend, using druidic magic. It stirred up too many memories, reopened fresh wounds. The scent of ozone, the prickle of Quintessence in the air, even the sight of the room where the Fourth Trial took place—it reminded Thace too much of the agony, and he’d declined to witness a Trial since his return.

He was here now, hands trembling as he took Keith by the shoulder and stooped down, locking eyes. Kolivan held himself back, though he wanted desperately to hold them both and chase away the horrors of the universe.

“I know,” Keith said, just shy of petulance. “I’ve practiced with Orva a hundred times.”

“That was practice,” Thace said, his lips turning downward. “Today will be different.”

For a moment, Keith’s irritation ebbed, and he searched Thace’s face. His eyes—human eyes—were so much more expressive than what Kolivan was used to. Keith was an odd blend of human mannerisms and Galra. He had human eyes, had learned their gestures. His vocal cords were unable to produce the vocalizations so common to Galra interactions, and he had neither tail nor ears to aid in his expressions. But he fell in with the Blade, with their duty and their devotion, in a way he’d never seemed to fall in with the other humans.

And yet Kolivan knew where it was Keith most wanted to belong.

“I know, Thace,” Keith said. “I’m ready for this.”

Thace closed his eyes, pain washing over his face. “No, you aren't,” he said softly. “No one ever is.”

He forced a smile, squeezed Keith’s shoulder, and stood, retreating to stand with Kolivan and Antok. He knew, as they all knew, that Keith would never back down from this Trial. Kolivan had delayed it as long as he dared, but the Fourth Trial was the last barrier standing between Keith and his goals. There was a Fifth Trial, but few undertook it. It was not required to be considered a full Blade, and it would not stop Keith gaining access to the information he sought: The identities of their operatives scattered across the universe. The ability to talk with them and search for news of his mother.

Orva and Antok agreed: Keith grew restless, and postponing the Trial further would have hindered his progress, not helped it. There was a hunger in him Orva sensed each time she stepped into his mind.

Kolivan doubted very much whether this was the path to slake that hunger, as his own early efforts to track down Keith’s mother had turned up no leads. But who was he to tell Keith what path to take?

Orva appeared in the doorway beyond Keith, her face shaded by her hood. She nodded to Kolivan, glanced briefly at Thace, then retreated into the room.

Kolivan breathed a sigh. “It is time,” he said. Keith stiffened, and he couldn’t hide the fear that crept into his posture. His eyes darted backward to the door, and he rubbed his thumb along the hilt of his Blade several times before handing it over to Kolivan. This was not the sort of Trial one could surmount through skill of arms.

“You who would seek knowledge,” Kolivan said, the familiar words falling heavier than usual today, “guard your mind.” He paused, considering Keith. The Trials were, by tradition, austere moments, not to be bogged down by excessive chatter, but he felt he should say something more. After a moment, he raised Keith’s Blade to his chest in a salute. “Be strong, brother.”

Kolivan’s words won a smile from Keith, fleeting though it was. He turned, shaking out his hands, and stepped into the room. Kolivan led the others to the observation room, though there wasn’t much to see in the Fourth Trial. Orva led Keith to the chair in the center of the room—carved from stone, it molded to a Galra body in such a way as to immobilize without inflicting unnecessary harm. Keith’s body was considerably smaller, with different proportions, and Orva had done her best to accommodate him.

She fastened manacles around his wrists and ankles—partially for his own safety during the Trial, partially a psychological ploy. Thace gripped his arms, claws drawing furrows in his uniform. The door hissed open one more time, and Ulaz stepped in. He glanced at Thace, and then through the one-way mirror at Keith.

Frowning, Ulaz laid a hand on Thace’s arm. Thace’s jaw tightened, but he gave no other response as Orva fastened the final restraint. She signaled to Kolivan that she was beginning the Trial, then stepped forward and pressed her claws lightly against Keith’s temples. Keith drew in a sharp breath, his body tensing all over.

After that was stillness. This Trial took place in the mind; Kolivan and the others were here only to ensure nothing happened to jeopardize either Orva or Keith. Ulaz lingered by Thace a moment longer, then crossed to the screen that monitored Orva and Keith’s vitals.

This Trial was simple. Antok had given Keith a secret he was to guard against discovery. It could be anything, and only Antok and Keith knew what it was. Kolivan had been entrusted with an encryption key for a communication channel; he’d given Thace the coordinates of a fictional Blade of Marmora base. Orva had six vargas to discover the information. She would not use physical torture, though she could threaten it, and Kolivan remembered well his own turn in that seat. With the restraints, with the foreign presence in his mind, with a druid’s tricks making it difficult to track what was reality and what an illusion, it had been nigh impossible to remember that he was not actually in danger.

All Keith had to do was hold out. He had trained in defensive techniques with Antok, Orva, and Zethan, the other former druid currently stationed at headquarters. He knew how to erect walls inside his mind, how to distract and disorient. How to close himself off to the world around him, to wrap himself and his secrets in darkness so thick even a druid could not penetrate.

It was a long, quiet vigil they sat, watching sweat trickle down Keith’s face. He trembled beneath Orva’s attack, even cried out once or twice. Each time, Kolivan’s heart ached for him. There was no lasting damage from a contest like this—not, at least, when the one you faced was an ally who did not want your mind to break. Haggar could be more brutal, as Thace’s quickening breath made plain.

Kolivan watched him as closely as he watched Keith. He did not ask Thace to leave; this was something he felt he had to do—for his own sake, and for Keith’s—and pity would do him no good. It was just as well there was no training scheduled for tonight or tomorrow. The Fourth Trial was a gutting experience for all involved, and Thace would need time to recover as surely as would Keith.

“Never again,” Kolivan murmured, drifting closer to Thace, who glanced his way, face a careful blank mask.

“I’ll do what I must, Kolivan. You know I will.”

Kolivan nodded. “We all will. But times are changing. Soon, the days of spy work and interrogations will be behind us.”

Thace turned back to the room, flinching as Keith pulled against his restraints, a silent cry parting his lips. “I hope so,” Thace said. “For all our sakes.”

* * *

The Fourth Trial always felt longer than six vargas. Even Kolivan, who had witnessed this Trial many times, felt he’d been here for quintants. To Keith, it must have seemed an eternity. It was simultaneously a blessing and a curse—blessing because it meant Keith was holding out; if Orva had found the information she sought, she would have ended the Trial immediately.

Curse, because it meant Keith had to endure more strain.

When at last Orva pulled back and declared that Keith had guarded the secret well—she suspected it had to do with Voltron, but could glean no details from Keith’s mind—Antok was the first into the room, gently unfastening the restraints as Keith fought his way back to consciousness. His eyes were glassy, his hands trembling as Antok helped him stand and immediately pulled him into an embrace.

 _Voltron,_ Kolivan thought with some amusement as Thace and Ulaz joined Antok. Ulaz peered into Keith’s eyes and asked him a few simple questions, while Thace just stood near the wall, watching as Orva withdrew. She would write up her formal report and deliver it to Kolivan tomorrow, but her admission of defeat was enough to confirm that Keith had passed his Trial.

Kolivan stared at the back of Antok’s head in mingled fondness and exasperation. Of course he had chosen Voltron as the focus of Keith’s secret. If pride and the burning need to learn about his mother hadn’t motivated Keith, then the knowledge that he held his friends’ lives in his hands surely would. In light of that, Kolivan wasn’t at all surprised Keith had passed.

“Come,” Kolivan said as soon as Ulaz drew breath long enough for someone else to get a word in. “The Trial is passed; it is time for rest.”

Keith looked up at him, his eyes still unfocused. He seemed to be trying to form a question, but his weary mind was having trouble stringing words together.

“Don’t worry,” Antok said, lifting Keith off his feet and heading for the door. Keith struggled for a moment, weakly, then resigned himself to Antok’s care. “We’ll take care of you. Just rest. You’ve been through a lot today.”

Keith sighed and leaned his head on Antok’s shoulder, bouncing with the rhythm of Antok’s gait. They threaded through quiet, seldom-used corridors to the room Regris had prepared for Keith’s recovery. The young Blade leaped to his feet, eyes wide, as Kolivan entered. He had not yet undertaken the Fourth Trial, though he had been with the Blade for several phoebs longer than Keith. He knew in general terms what Keith had done today, but his restless hands and lashing tail bespoke concern that bordered on frenzy.

“He is well,” Kolivan said, resting a hand on Regris’s shoulder. Still he remained tense until Antok entered, finally relenting and setting Keith back on his feet.

Keith froze at the sight of the room: a nest of blankets and pillows on the floor, large enough for half a dozen fully-grown Galra; a mound of water packets and nutrient bars, along with some more indulgent food—fruit and meat and grains, which they saved for special occasions.

For a long moment, Kolivan wondered if Keith would simply walk out. For all Kolivan could read a longing for companionship in the kit, he held himself apart. He preferred to rest in his own quarters, to eat in silence and leave the commissary quickly, and he rarely engaged in physical affection with the others.

But he wavered, glanced shyly at the expectant faces watching him, and when Antok tugged him toward the nest, went willingly. He didn’t resist when Antok pulled him close, resting his chin atop Keith’s head, and slowly, shuddering, Keith reached up and grabbed a hold of Antok’s uniform.

Antok hummed in contentment, rubbing Keith’s back. This broke the spell that had fallen over the rest of them, and they joined Antok and Keith in the nest, comforting in their proximity, speaking in low, soothing voices. Kolivan said nothing, just watched as Keith drifted off to sleep.

For once, he carried no tension in his bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art in this chapter was done by the wonderful [thatcrimsonartist](https://thatcrimsonartist.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. Link to the rebloggable version coming soon!


	4. Survivor's Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a few instances of minor character death, all off screen, most illusory.

_Kolivan was sleeping when Tievok died._

_He slept in his bunk on the_ Hex, _an Imperial cruiser, dreaming of betrayal. Dreaming of rebellion. He slept, blissful and safe, and woke to Antok pounding on his door._

“ _I’m sorry.”_

_The first words from Antok’s lips, dripping with the blood that soaked his hands, his armor. Kolivan’s heart plummeted even as he seized Antok by the collar and dragged him inside, away from the prying eyes beginning to gather in the dark, quiet corridor._

“ _I’m sorry, Kolivan,” Antok repeated, shaking, his eyes wide with fright, his teeth bared in a grimace of pain and guilt. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry—we didn’t—we thought we were safe!”_

“ _We?” The word stuck in Kolivan’s throat, throbbing in time with his pulse. (Blood. So much blood staining Antok’s hands, his armor. Kolivan searched him for signs of injury and found none.)_

_Antok’s eyes fluttered closed and he sagged, tail dragging along the floor. “Tievok. I—I’m sorry, Kolivan. I couldn’t save him.”_

* * *

_They left within the hour, the story coming out in spurts and fragments as they made hasty preparations._

_Prisoners. Kolivan had seen them—and the horrific experiments the druids ran on them—when Tievok, teary-eyed with impotent rage, dragged him into a quiet corridor with a hissed warning to keep quiet and stay low._

_A break in Antok’s rotation, a quiet exit from Tievok’s basic training._

_An unexpected guard rotation, a brief, frantic firefight._

_Tievok and Antok were untested. It was as simple as that. Antok was a year out of the cadet halls, Tievok two months shy of graduation. Against experienced soldiers, they didn’t stand a chance. The prisoners fell first, and Tievok—fierce, noble Tievok—refused to leave them. Antok sank his claws into the chest of the one who brought Tievok down, stripping the flesh from his bones, turning his weapons against the other soldiers until none remained alive._

_It was well that Antok had come to Kolivan, and not only for his own sake. It had always been the three of them haunting the passages of the cruiser, co-conspirators toeing the line of insubordination. Where you found one, you usually found them all. Kolivan, his battle mate, and his brother._

_When their warp drive failed them and they crashed down on an unnamed jungle planet in unoccupied space, they scrambled for safety and shelter, fleeing the Imperial soldiers who hunted them._

_Kolivan said nothing to Antok the entire time. He feared if he tried, it would end with both of them bloodied._

* * *

“We’ll never penetrate those shield!”

There was panic in Matt Holt’s voice—the same panic burning in Kolivan’s blood. Keith had taken their fastest ship and gone to try to stop Haggar. To save his family. Kolivan had watched, horrified and helpless, his friends and brothers at his side, as Keith and the rebels hit Haggar’s shield with everything they had.

Nothing was working, and Kolivan’s heart went out to Matt. His sister was inside the blast radius, and Kolivan knew— _he knew—_ that helpless rage when your own blood was in danger. He’d been powerless to save Tievok; he’d been powerless to save countless Blades over the decaphoebs.

He was powerless now to save the paladins.

Keith’s voice came through the comms, utterly calm. “Maybe not with our weapons.”

Kolivan’s lungs filled with ice. “No,” he breathed, keenly aware of Ulaz at his side. Of Thace’s breath hitching. Of Antok, across the room, going suddenly rigid and Regris spinning toward the comms screen from which Keith’s voice emanated. They knew that note of resignation. They knew what Keith was prepared to do; what all of them had been ready to do at one moment or another.

See the mission through. One life was a worthy sacrifice if it would save countless more.

And the realization cut Kolivan to the core. Sacrifice was necessary in this war. A willingness to die for the cause, if necessary, was noble. But not in Keith. Keith had to make it out of this—of them all, Keith deserved to make it out.

“Wait, Keith, what are you doing?”

The horror, the realization, in Matt Holt’s voice spurred Kolivan into motion. He spun away from the comms, brushing off Ulaz’s concern, and sprinted for the landing pad outside where two other ships waited.

(There was no time, and Kolivan knew it. He ran anyway.)

“Keith, _no!_ ”

A roar whited out the comms, a rushing in Kolivan’s ear, and the world was ripped out from under him. He stumbled, slamming into the hull of the fighter he’d been running for. Kolivan sank his claws into a seam between metal plates and clung to it, holding himself upright through sheer force of will. His mind was a blessed blank, unable to process the sound in his ears and what it meant. Keith wasn’t dead. The universe—even a universe that allowed Zarkon to reign for ten thousand years—couldn’t possibly be so cruel.

A faint crackle on the comms. A fading out of the empty roar, and then the paladins were back in range of the castle-ship and its amplifiers.

“Good job, Keith,” Shiro said, blissfully, tragically unaware that--

“That wasn’t me.”

Keith’s voice was the final blow, the blade that cut Kolivan’s legs out from under him. In his ear, the paladins continued to talk, exclaiming in surprise and confusion. Matt Holt breathed out a tremulous curse that resonated in Kolivan’s bones. A new voice spoke, identifying itself as Lotor, but for the moment, Kolivan couldn’t bring himself to care.

Keith was alive.

_I need to be there._

Kolivan struggled to his feet, legs shaking horribly. Tievok’s face swam before him, then Antok’s, bloodied and creased with guilt and sorrow. _I’m sorry, Kolivan. I couldn’t save him._

“It’s okay.”

That _was_ Antok—trembling hands reaching out to steady Kolivan. His voice was soft but sure, and his mask made it impossible to read his expression, but he was shaken nearly as much as Kolivan. He’d loved Tievok, too. He’d mourned Tievok as deeply as had Kolivan, though Kolivan’s anger had blinded him to that truth for long quintants.

But Antok had remained steady through it all, as he was steady now. For all his brashness, for all he hated to stand still, he was the rock that supported Kolivan every time the ground beneath him turned to quicksand. He’d borne Kolivan’s anger, all those decaphoebs ago, and still been there when the anger run out. They’d only just made it off the jungle planet where they’d crash-landed when Kolivan’s grief caught him up, reducing him to wracking sobs on the lonely moon where they stopped to take stock of the situation.

Antok, who had kept his distance ever since their escape, had approached him then, reaching out cautiously to wipe Kolivan’s tears away. He’d looked all the while like he expected Kolivan to take his head off—and in fact, Kolivan had given him every reason to be wary—but he’d risked Kolivan’s anger to ease his hurt.

“ _I’m sorry,”_ Antok had said, and Kolivan heard the truth in his pained voice.

It was in that moment that Kolivan had made a decision. He’d lost his brother to the reckless rebellion Tievok and Antok had drawn each other into, and he could choose to blame Antok for that. In so doing, he would lose the only other person in the universe who truly mattered.

Kolivan had chosen forgiveness, clinging to his best friend, his battle mate, the man who was his everything. He’d never let go since.

Antok soothed him now with a quiet rumble, his tail wrapping around Kolivan’s ankle and squeezing once. The pressure was grounding, and Kolivan forced himself to remain in the present. Tievok was dead, but Keith was not. He was alive, but not yet safe. Not with Prince Lotor suddenly making an overture of peace.

“We need to go,” Kolivan said, forcing steel into his words. He pulled away from Antok but let his hand linger on the other man’s wrist for just a moment, just long enough to reassure him that Kolivan wasn’t angry. Footsteps pounded on the landing pad, and Kolivan looked up to see that Thace, Ulaz, and Regris had joined them.

They exchanged no words as they piled into the fighter’s cockpit and set a course for the castle-ship’s coordinates. The ship had no true warp drive, but they were near enough that even at sublightspeed, it took a matter of dobashes to arrive, broadcasting their ship’s ID so none of the rebel ships in evidence panicked and shot at the new arrival.

Kolivan tried once to contact the castle’s bridge, but no one answered. That wasn’t surprising; they would be in with Lotor now, trying to figure out how to deal with him. Kolivan should join them. They would need all the backup they could get where Zarkon’s son was involved.

But he didn’t care about Lotor now. He needed to see Keith.

The castle’s main hangar opened automatically in response to the clearance codes Kolivan transmitted, and Kolivan spotted Keith’s fighter near the back of the hangar. There were ugly black skid marks trailing from the ship, which spoke to a rough landing. Maybe that was urgency due to Lotor’s presence in the castle. More likely it was the reality of what Keith had tried to do catching up with him.

Regris was the first out of the ship, but only because Antok lingered near Kolivan as he drew in several deep breaths to calm himself before he stood.

They found Keith in the corridor just outside the hangar, sitting against the wall with Matt Holt, whose pale face was splotchy and flushed, his eyes rimmed in red.

“Keith!” Regris called, startling the kit. He looked up with haunted eyes—familiar eyes—and cringed as the other Blades closed in around him. Regris dropped to his knees and skidded the last two paces, yanking Keith into an embrace. “Don’t scare us like that, you little brat.” Regris’s tail came up and smacked the side of Keith’s head.

Keith rubbed his ear, looking more stunned than hurt, and blinked at Regris. “...Sorry?”

“You’d better be,” Antok growled, shoving Regris away and lifting Keith off the ground with his embrace. Keith’s feet scrambled to take his weight, but Antok straightened to his full height, leaving Keith dangling awkwardly from his arms, wide eyes staring blankly over Antok’s shoulder.

A smile slipped past Kolivan’s shell of terror, and he pressed his palm to Antok’s back. “Let him breathe, Antok,” he said—but didn’t complain when Regris, Thace, and Ulaz crowded around Keith, strain pulling at their eyes. Nearby, Matt climbed to his feet, sniffling.

“See?” Matt asked, his voice a touch sullen. “I’m not the only one who’s pissed at you.”

Keith frowned. “ _Why?_ ” he demanded. There was a stubborn set to his jaw, a dangerous light in his eyes as he pulled back and glowered at Kolivan. “Nothing even happened.”

“You were ready to sacrifice yourself,” Thace said.

“So were _you_.”

Thace flinched, but he couldn’t deny the truth in Keith’s words. Regris scowled, and Antok’s hand tightened on Keith’s shoulder. Ulaz grabbed his arm to stop an angry retort.

Kolivan stepped into the awkward silence, struggling to get his thoughts in line. “Haggar put you in a bad spot,” he said. “You made the best decision you could, given the circumstances. I don’t know that it would have worked the way you wanted it to, but I understand the urge to risk yourself to save Voltron. To save your friends.”

Keith’s eyes widened minutely, and he turned his head aside, shying away as Matt reached out for him. “So you agree. I did what I had to. Any of you would have done the same.”

Kolivan closed his eyes, his heart aching. “If I’d been in your place, yes. I would have,” he admitted, ignoring the way Thace tensed, the soft, indignant cry that escaped Matt. Kolivan breathed out, opened his eyes, and pinned Keith with a solemn look. “I understand why you did what you did, and I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at Haggar for putting you in that position, and at myself for not being able to stop you. I’m angry that we needed Lotor’s help to save your life.” He paused, settling his hand atop Keith’s head. “But more than any of that, I’m worried that you were so ready to sacrifice yourself. Your friends’ are not the only lives that matter.”

Humans. They were such small, frail creatures. Kolivan’s palm covered the whole of the crown of Keith’s head, making it difficult to read Keith’s expression. But he couldn’t hide the tremor in his hand as he lifted it to scrub at his eyes.

“I can’t lose them,” he whispered. “I _can’t._ ”

And _that_ , Kolivan could truly sympathize with. He pulled Keith into an embrace and held him until the tremors passed. Keith didn’t cry once in that time, or if he did, he did it  so quietly and with so little change to his breathing that Kolivan couldn’t tell. Matt lingered for a time, then withdrew, making excuses about checking in on the paladins and Lotor.

Kolivan should follow him. He knew that, but he couldn’t make himself move. Not until Keith pulled back, his face shuttered and his back stiff.

“Can we go now?” he asked, not meeting Kolivan’s eyes.

“Go?” Ulaz asked, frowning. “What about your friends?”

“What about _Lotor_?” Antok added pointedly.

Keith flinched. “Yeah. Right.” He shook his head, drawing in a wavering breath. “They’ll need you in there. I’ll just head back on my own.”

Regris lifted a hand to stop him, but Keith was already heading back into the hangar, his quick steps forestalling any argument. The other Blades turned toward Kolivan for direction, and Kolivan was tempted to go after Keith himself.

No. Not yet. Keith needed time to calm down, and Kolivan did need to help deal with Lotor. He would talk to Keith later.

Talk, and perhaps show him the crystal at the heart of the Blade’s headquarters. Kolivan didn’t often recommend the Fifth Trial to his fellows, and certainly never to one as new as Keith. But he thought he might make an exception today. Keith could benefit from the insight the final Trial provided.

* * *

_Kolivan had never intended to pursue the final Trial. It was not required for ordinary members of the Blade of Marmora, nor was it recommended to everyone. The Fifth Trial, more than the others, was risky, and there were no tangible rewards for passing it._

_Antok, of course, was drawn to the challenge. He begged his Blademaster to let him undertake it from the moment he passed the Fourth Trial. He pestered the Leader when lesser authorities proved too sluggish for Antok’s taste. For three decaphoebs, he pressed, always straining to prove himself worthy._

_It wasn’t until afterwards that either of them realized it wasn’t Antok’s worthiness that was at stake. They only wanted to ensure he understood what he was asking for._

_He didn’t understand, of course. Not well enough._

_They called it a journey. Not a test like the other Trials, except that it tested your own sense of identity. The Fifth was about introspection, about exploring possibilities, about finding your path forward. The crystal at the heart of headquarters contained trace elements from other realities. Slav explained it once, much later, and though Kolivan didn’t follow the theory, he grasped that it was a crystal situated at a nexus where other universes bled through._

_It wasn’t unheard of for a Blade undertaking the Fifth Trial to slip into another universe entirely—or for something else to slip into this reality._

_(Antok had once maintained that they were speaking metaphorically when they warned of the lethal danger you might find in your own mind. Would that Kolivan could go back and tell him he was wrong.)_

_When the Leader grew old and frail and began searching for her successor, Kolivan wasn’t going to put himself forward. It had been just two decaphoebs since Antok’s disastrous attempt, since the screams rent the silence of headquarters, since Kolivan rushed to the infirmary to find Antok’s face a bloody, unrecognizable mess. Antok stoutly refused to speak of what he’d seen within the crystal, save to tell Kolivan it hadn’t been worth it. His Trial remained incomplete._

_But the Leader, a calculating old brute of a woman named Reva, called Kolivan to her bedside._

“ _You have the heart of a Leader, Kolivan,” she’d said. “A steady mind. You should undertake the Trial.”_

_The Trial. Not required of any Blade except those who would take up the mantle of Leader. Reva had already spoken with all the living Blades who had passed the final Trial—they numbered in the single digits, several as old as Reva herself. The other senior Blades were sure Reva would chose from among this number. As frail as she was, she couldn’t sit the final Trial enough times to sate the ambition of all those who sought her seat._

_But she had asked Kolivan specifically. How could he refuse her?_

* * *

“What do you know of the final Trial?” Kolivan asked. He walked beside Keith, following a seldom-used passage deep into the heart of the meteor that served as the Blade’s headquarters. He’d come this way just three times since he completed his own Trial. One of those who had made the attempt had vanished midway through, fleeing to a universe free from war.

There were days Kolivan cursed that man, though part of him understood. Sympathized, even. His own Trial had not been without temptation. Kolivan wished the lost Blade well. They all yearned for peace, and not all were tied to this reality as thoroughly as Kolivan was.

Keith hunched his shoulders. “Antok told me the basics,” he said. “It’s a test of will and self-control. A spiritual journey or whatever.”

Kolivan tipped his head to the side. That was as fair an explanation as any. “And you know you are not in any way obligated to undertake this Trial? Fewer than one percent of our operatives attempt it, and not all succeed.”

For a long while, Keith was quiet. He’d been on the training deck when Kolivan returned—not fighting, just kneeling in the center of the room, his Blade inactive on the floor before him. He hadn’t turned when Kolivan walked in, but he’d sheathed his Blade, stood, and bowed his head. _I’m sorry for recklessly endangering an operative,_ he’d said, as though that were all that were required of him, as though Kolivan’s concern, Antok’s concern, Thace and Ulaz and Regris and Matt’s concern—as if all any of them cared for was the number of soldiers they had to send on to the next battle.

“You think I should,” Keith said at length. “Go through with it.” He lifted his head, frowning thoughtfully.

Kolivan sighed. “I think you might benefit from what the Trial will show you, assuming you survive.” Kolivan wasn’t worried that Keith would be one of those who faded out of this reality. He was like Kolivan in that sense—irrevocably bound to his family in this world, and too loyal to walk away. Whatever Keith saw, he couldn’t take the other paladins with him into that other world, just as Kolivan hadn’t been able to bring Antok with him.

To Keith’s credit, he didn’t cower at the warning he might not survive. Or perhaps that was a mark against him, considering the events of today.

Regardless, Keith didn’t seem inclined to back down from this Trial.

They came at length to the crystal chamber. It was quiet down here, the smooth metal walls and even lighting of the upper levels replaced by rough stone and sparse lamps that left deep troughs of shadow between them. The crystal itself gave off a faint indigo glow that lent the cavern a surreal cast. Keith’s steps slowed, his eyes widening at the sight.

“The Heart of Marmora,” Kolivan said, stepping fully into the chamber. “A nexus between worlds. When you touch this, you will be able to peer into other universes and the lives other versions of you have lived. I will undergo this Trial together with you, in part to guide you, in part so you have someone you can speak to afterwards.”

Keith tore his eyes away from the crystal. “Why? Can’t I talk about it to anyone else?”

“You are free to do with the knowledge granted you as you wish. Most find their visions too private to explain them to others. Part of my duty to you as Leader is to share your burden. If you wish to undertake this Trial, you must agree to let me see into your heart. In return, you will have someone who understands what you went through, in the event that you find yourself in need of a sympathetic ear.”

Slowly, Keith nodded. “So we just touch it? What do I need to do?”

“Learn,” Kolivan said.

Keith pursed his lips. “No, I mean, how do we know when I’ve passed?”

“You will know. If, upon your return, you feel the Trial holds more knowledge for you, the Trial is considered incomplete. You are free to try again at a later date.” Kolivan didn’t say that very few Blades made the attempt a second time. When they did, it was many decaphoebs later, after a lifetime of meditation and self-reflection. “The only way you fail is if you do not return.”

This, finally, gave Keith pause. He regarded the crystal like it was a wild animal that might devour him if he let his guard down. In a sense, that wasn’t far from the truth, and Kolivan breathed easier with the knowledge that Keith was going into this Trial with a healthy amount of wariness.

“Very well,” Kolivan said, kneeling on the ground within arm’s reach of the crystal. Keith joined him, mimicking his posture. “Unless you have questions, let us begin. Open your mind to me and to the crystal. When you are ready, lay your hand on the crystal.”

Keith breathed deeply, his eyes fluttering closed. His hands tightened on the fabric covering his thighs, then relaxed, and he reached out for the crystal.

* * *

_Kolivan remembered little of his own Trial. A rush of images, a flood of emotions that threatened to sweep him away. He lived a hundred lives in span of a varga, each of them overlapping each other, winding together into a confusion of darkness, death, and occasional peace that came like a breath of fresh air._

_Two realities stood out in his mind when at last he returned to himself. He wasn’t sure that they had actually been more prominent than any of the rest, but they tugged at him more than the others: one a temptation, one a warning. One called to him to cross the boundary and leave the Blade behind; the other showed him the dangers waiting for him if he returned and whispered that he should just…_ stay. _Don’t pass through, don’t return. Just drift. Lose yourself to the chaos._

_He wouldn’t be the first to become one with the crystal._

_In the years since, Kolivan had told Antok of one vision. It was one that showed Kolivan as Leader of the Blade of Marmora. No—not Leader,_ General. _The Blade was, in practice, a military operation consigned to intelligence operations for the time being. But in the world Kolivan glimpsed during his Trial, he led an army._

_General Kolivan stood at the heart of a war council, surveying screens that showed him troop deployments, supply lines, and spy reports. He sent men to die and shed no tears, for this was war, and war demanded sacrifices._

_General Kolivan had sent Antok to die, and he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Antok’s death had won them an entire sector in the very heart of Zarkon’s empire. Antok would have been proud to know it._

“ _And you still accepted the job?” Antok had asked when Kolivan told him of the General. To Kolivan’s relief, Antok hadn’t been angry that the other Kolivan had gotten him killed. Perhaps he’d seen a similarly dark version of himself within the crystal. Perhaps he understood the visceral hatred Kolivan had for the General._

“ _That’s not the job I accepted,” Kolivan said firmly. He’d spoken with Reva about it at length in the wake of his Trial. The title of Leader was deliberately understated, for the Leader wasn’t meant to think too highly of themself. Their authority came from the Blades who followed them. Their brothers. “I’ll lead them, but they are still my family, not pawns to be pushed around a cosmic game board.”_

_Antok had nodded thoughtfully, though Kolivan could tell he didn’t understand. Kolivan himself couldn’t put it into words. He must have seen other things in the Trial, though he couldn’t remember the specifics. The whole experience had left him with the understanding that this was not a burden he could pass over. Heavy though it was, he had to bear it. He owed it to his comrades._

_He accepted that, however reluctantly. Harder to accept was the temptation he had turned his back on. He couldn’t speak of that vision to anyone, not even to Reva. It hurt too much._

_Tievok had been alive in that vision. He and Kolivan had grown up in the interior of the Empire, away from the war. They never joined the army, never met Antok, never fell into petty rebellion. It wasn’t a true peace; whispers of the war still reached their quiet planet, and they thrived on the backs of the Empire’s slave labor._

_But they’d been happy. For a moment, caught up in the life of a private citizen, that had been enough. Kolivan had been on the brink of slipping into the citizen’s life before he remembered himself._

_Yes, he had his brother in that world—but only his brother. Antok was not there. Thace was not there. Nor were any of the others Kolivan had met in the Blade. Perhaps the Blade itself still existed, but it was weaker for Kolivan’s absence. It was hard to judge the value of a single operative, but they were stretched so thin that even a slight shift in power would be noticed._

_People were dead in that universe who were alive in this one. A dozen people? A hundred? Whole planets? Any number was too great a price to pay to have Tievok back._

_Later, Kolivan would find it amusing: he’d undertaken the Trial as a step in the path to becoming Leader of the Blade, but the cautionary knowledge he’d gained from the General paled compared to what he’d learned from the citizen. For there he’d learned something vital about himself.  
_

_He’d learned where his loyalties lay, and what he was willing to give up for the greater good. He missed Tievok, and he loved him dearly even now. But he wasn’t selfish enough to choose Tievok over the rest of the universe._

* * *

Kolivan followed Keith into the vision. For a moment, the visions Kolivan had been given so long ago tried to make a resurgence, but he forced them away. Games of what-if didn’t interest him now, and Keith would need him to be vigilant.

It was always more difficult to look into someone else’s visions. Most contained no version of Kolivan whose eyes he could look through, and he instead had to pull back the veil of each alternate reality individually. He could sense them all spreading out away from him in branching paths, a webbing of cracks in the universe itself. Keith would be experiencing each of these realities simultaneously, while Kolivan saw only one at a time. He let Keith’s emotions guide him, as the visions that struck a chord in Keith were the ones that would stand out the best in his mind when this was all done. They were also the ones most likely to consume him.

Three realities burned more brightly than the rest. Kolivan sank quickly into the first, his heart in his throat.

* * *

_A toddler squealed in delight as a Galra woman swept him up off the ground and tossed him in the air. Kolivan didn’t immediately recognize the woman, but with the way she looked at the boy—at Keith—with adoration in her eyes, there could be no doubt that this was his mother. She carried her Blade at her waist, though she wore strange human clothing. Behind her, a man who could only have been Keith’s father leaned his cheek on his hand and sipped his coffee._

_Keith aged five decaphoebs in the blink of an eye. He was quieter now, staring up at a sky burning crimson. Streaks of white cut through the upper atmosphere, then split apart in an Imperial search formation. Keith’s father put an arm around his shoulders and glanced to the Galra woman, who stood frozen in the door of their small home, her eyes wide with horror._

“ _I can’t stay,” she whispered. She blinked, looked down at her husband and son. “They’ve come for me. If I stay, they will find me, and they will kill all of us. I’ll take my ship. Lead them away.”_

_Keith’s father clenched his jaw and nodded. “We’ll come with you.”_

“ _But--”_

“ _Together,” he said, “or not at all. We’re a family. We stick together.”_

_Keith stared up at them both, wide-eyed. It was difficult to gauge how old he was—old enough, Kolivan guessed, to recognize the tension in his parents’ voices, but not old enough to understand what the danger was. Still, he watched, and when his parents told him to pack a few toys for a trip, he sprinted inside and returned moments later with a small backpack and a solemn expression._

_They ran._

_Kolivan caught only fleeting glimpses of Keith’s family through the seasons. He was young, and his mother was Galra, and his father knew nothing of space. The Empire chased them from planet to planet. They lived in constant fear of discovery, ready to abandon their home at a moment’s notice. For a few decaphoebs when Keith was a teenager, they lived out of a small frigate with a single bedroom and a rudimentary kitchen. Keith learned to fly and to fight, and he grew hard._

_Keith’s mother never sought out the Blade, though Kolivan couldn’t see enough to know if that was because she didn’t want Keith to get caught up in their mission or because she was afraid to lead Zarkon to their hidden bases._

_Then it happened. Keith was nearing adulthood, perhaps a few phoebs older than he was in Kolivan’s reality. They were stopped on a swap moon to resupply. Keith slipped away from his parents and spent the day watching the families gathered by the food stalls. It had been so long since Keith had last had any real friends, and the sight of so many strangers awakened a peculiar longing in him._

_Arguments filtered into Kolivan’s awareness. He could remember them like they were his own memories, though he hadn’t witnessed any of them in the vision. Keith was frustrated with his life. He wanted to settle down and have a normal life or, barring that, he wanted to fight. To take a stand, to join a rebellion. The Galra Empire dominated his childhood, and its outward march showed no sign of slacking._

_For a time, watching the crowds on the lonely swap-moon, Kolivan thought Keith would walk away. Barter for passage on another ship or simply stow away, and never speak to his parents again._

_But that didn’t happen. However frustrated Keith was, family was family, and you didn’t walk away from it. He lingered in the food court for most of the day, then dragged himself to his feet, checked the gun and the knife hidden beneath the folds of his clothing, and made his way back to the public hangar where they’d left the ship._

_Halfway there, the screaming began. Keith’s steps slowed as he noticed people running toward him, coming from the direction of the hangar. His heart pounded, fear clawing at his throat. This had to be the Empire._

_He ran for the hangar, drawing his knife as the crowd thinned around him. Everyone else had already fled or taken cover, and the hangar was blanketed in an eerie silence that made Keith’s skin crawl. He wanted to call for his parents but didn’t dare. There were enemies about._

_No one stopped him as he crossed to his family’s ship. Some corner of his mind registered that fact and worried for what it meant, but the rest of him was consumed by the scent of singed flesh and fresh blood. He stumbled into the cockpit, and his knees hit the floor. His father lay in a pool of his own blood, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. Beyond, his mother had one hand wrapped around the arm of the pilot’s seat as though she’d been trying to pull herself up._

_They were dead._

_Keith couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. His blood was rushing in his ears, and when a Galra soldier stepped out of the shadow, he didn’t even have the presence of mind to be afraid. He just flipped his knife around and plunged it into the soldier’s neck, hardly flinching as a laser flashed over his shoulder and buried itself in one of the instrument panels by the forward viewscreen._

_The solider screamed as he died, and shouts answered from outside the ship. Keith hammered the ramp controls, then cut down the three other soldiers who had made it onto the ship. When they were dead, he collapsed in the seat his mother had been crawling toward. His thigh burned where a laser had hit him, and one shoulder throbbed in time with his pulse, wrenched when the last soldier had tried to wrestle him to the floor._

_Keith opened fire on the hangar, wreaking havoc indiscriminately as he fled the swap moon. He fled, never looking back, never looking down at his parents’ corpses. He stopped once to dump the bodies of the Galra soldiers and to check the hull for tracking devices. His mother had taught him how to identify them, and he plucked two off the ship’s underbelly before he continued on his way._

_It was two days before he stopped to rest, hidden in the shadow of a cliff on an uninhabited planet. The wind murmured as it cut through waist-high grass, and birds sang to greet the morning. Keith slept through the afternoon, and when he woke he dug a grave for his parents, which he marked with a stone._

_His arms were shaking by the time he was done, and tears mingled with the sweat streaming down his face. Mud caked his arms to the elbow; the only shovel he could find was one facet of the multitool in the survival kit, and that had broken vargas ago. He knelt beside the grave, staring at the stone marker, ignorant of his tears._

_Kolivan became aware of himself and stepped forward, moving slowly so as not to startle Keith. There was never any way to know how quickly someone would become aware of him, and he didn’t want to provoke a fight._

_Nevertheless, Keith tensed when he finally noticed Kolivan standing there. He reached for his mother’s Blade—his Blade, now, though he knew only a fragment of its significance—but he hesitated when his gaze lit on Kolivan’s face._

_Recognition flickered behind Keith’s eyes and he released the Blade to scrub at his cheeks. “What was the point of that?” Keith demanded, his voice hoarse. “I thought I was supposed to learn something about myself or whatever.”_

“ _You didn’t learn anything?” Kolivan crouched down, his hands dangling between his knees._

_Keith scoffed, gaze drifting toward the headstone. “Her name,” he said. “Her name was Krolia.” Keith paused, blinking furiously. “She’s already dead, isn’t she?” His breath hitched. "She would have found me by now otherwise."_

_The resignation in Keith’s voice drove a dagger through Kolivan’s heart. “Perhaps. Perhaps not,” Kolivan said. “I’ll help you look for her, if you wish it.”_

_Keith shrugged. “Weren’t these visions supposed to tempt me?” he asked. “Wasn’t I supposed to want to come to these other realities?”_

“ _Sometimes. Sometimes they draw you in for other reasons.”_

“ _Like to tell me to stop being stupid and just admit my parents are dead?” Keith abruptly stood, wiping one last tear and leaving a muddy streak across his cheek. “Fine. Lesson learned. Am I done yet?”_

_Kolivan stood, aching to reach out and hug Keith, though he was insubstantial in this space. Keith could only see him because he was already pulling out of this vision. “No,” Kolivan said. “I’m afraid there’s still more to see.”_

* * *

_Kolivan hardly waited to return to himself—cold stone beneath his knees, warm crystal under his fingertips—before he plunged into the second vision. This transition was more disorienting, for Kolivan opened his eyes to familiar corridors lit by a soft blue glow._

_The Blade headquarters was the same in this reality as in his own, and for a moment Kolivan felt as though the Trial and all it entailed had merely been a vivid dream. He glanced around, trying to place himself, and gave a start as a shrill cry split the silence._

_Kolivan spun, his hand dropping to the hilt of his Blade—and found a child staring back at him._

_Keith was young—not as young as at the start of the previous cycle, but younger than that version of him had been when he left Earth. He shrieked again, waved a toy Blade over his head, and charged forward, ever so slightly unsteady on his feet. He wore a tiny jumpsuit made to look like the Blades’ armor, and he tugged a paper mask down over his face as he charged. There were holes cut into it where the lenses ought to be, and it slipped out of place as Keith attacked Kolivan’s leg, quickly rendering Keith sightless. He got turned around and flailed his Blade at empty air, still roaring a battle cry._

_Kolivan frowned, placing a hand atop Keith’s head. He gave a start, then wilted, pushing his mask up to pout at Kolivan._

“ _You weren’t scared at all,” Keith accused._

_Kolivan tilted his head to the side. Best to play along for now. “Of course I was.”_

“ _You were?”_

_Kolivan nodded. “Yes.” He hesitated. “I just know how not to let it show.”_

_Keith grinned at that, thrusting forward with his Blade. It glanced harmlessly off Kolivan’s armor, but Keith seemed proud of himself._

_The vision slipped away, blurring into an endless stream of images. Kolivan was too much integrated into this reality to hold himself apart, and decaphoebs passed before he remembered his purpose here. He watched Keith grow, trained him in the Blade, held him when he had nightmares. Antok doted on the kit—the only kit headquarters had ever seen, and doubly special because his mother had been one of their own. Ulaz fussed over Keith whenever he was injured in training, Thace snuck off with him and taught him to sneak about in order to better prank Kolivan._

_It took too long to realize that neither of Keith’s parents was present in this universe. Nor, it seemed, was Voltron. Ulaz must have found Shiro, for Kolivan lost contact with him—but in this lifetime, there was no reunion. Ulaz disappeared, and Kolivan never heard from him again._

_It wasn’t long before Thace followed in Ulaz’s footsteps. His last message mentioned the paladins, but he didn’t go into details._

_Things got fuzzy after that, and the next thing Kolivan knew, he was back in the crystal chamber, kneeling beside Keith, who looked up at once, a small smile tugging at his lips. He looked so different than the Keith Kolivan knew—older, scarred, with shadows under his eyes._

“ _Well,” Keith said. “That’s another vision down.”_

_Kolivan frowned. “What?”_

“ _The vision. It’s over, isn’t it? Or nearly so. That’s why you’re here.”_

“ _How do you know I’m not the Kolivan from this reality?”_

“ _Aside from questions like that?” Keith’s smile turned crooked, and he leaned backward, resting against the crystal. It didn’t react to him here as it would have if this were real, but Kolivan still itched to pull Keith away. Keith’s sigh stopped him. “You’re dead.”_

_Kolivan’s mouth ran dry._

“ _You—this version of you—he just died. I don’t--” Keith shook his head, swallowing an upswelling of emotion. “You basically raised me in this world. Did you know that? The Galra came to Earth when I was little. They killed my dad, but my mom got me out. She was badly wounded, but she managed to get in touch with you, and you agreed to take me in. I grew up with the Blade—but that means I wasn’t there when the other paladins needed me.”_

_Keith faltered, staring at his hands._

_“This version of me never even saw the Red Lion. All he knew was that things were changing. Ulaz died, then Thace died. Regris was never even recruited. I think Zarkon got his hands on Shiro and the Black Lion at some point. He tracked us down, wiped out most of the Blade. Antok grabbed me and ran.” He waved around at the empty chamber. “We came back to see if there was anything to salvage. That’s when we found you.”_

“ _I’m sorry,” Kolivan said._

_Keith shook his head. “It’s okay. It—There’s nothing for me in this world, not anymore, but I’m glad I saw it. It’s… given me a lot to think about.”_

“ _And?”_

_Keith looked up, and the pain in his expression took Kolivan’s breath away. “Ask me when this is all over, okay?”_

* * *

_The final vision was the shortest of the lot, and the closest to the reality Kolivan knew. When he stepped into this vision, he found himself faced not with Keith as a child, but Keith as he’d been when Kolivan had first met him—tired, scared, unsure of himself and his heritage._

_There was nothing noteworthy about the scene—the paladins having dinner together, Coran trying to draw Shiro into the conversation. He must have only just found his way back to his team. Keith sat on Shiro’s other side, watching him with an almost motherly air and blatantly loading Shiro’s plate with more food than he’d taken for himself._

_An innocuous scene, but Kolivan knew somehow that this was the moment, in his own reality, where Keith had decided to pursue additional training with the Blades._

_He made no such push in this reality. He didn’t approach Kolivan about his mother, didn’t ask to undertake the remaining Trials. The paladins worked with the Blade on occasion, still, and Keith was civil to them, but he was not one of them. He was a paladin. The black paladin—he held onto the title stubbornly, despite the awkwardness caused by Shiro’s return and the Black Lion’s rejection of him._

_There was part of Keith that didn’t want this life, but he endured. He learned from Shiro, and he learned from his team, and he became the leader Shiro had always seen in him. He trained with Allura, let Lance cut his hair, helped Hunk in the kitchen from time to time. He helped Pidge find her brother, who turned out to have been a distant friend of Keith’s at the Garrison._

_He_ fit _here, Keith did. Kolivan ached to see it, not least because he’d always known it to be true. The paladins were Keith’s true family—and it seemed he’d only just realized what he’d given up in leaving the castle behind._

“ _I want this,” Keith whispered. The scene around them had frozen. Lance and Pidge were playing a video game in one corner, Matt cheering them on. Hunk and Allura oohed and ahhed as the mice put on a show for them. Shiro stood nearby with Coran, his head half-turned toward Keith, who looked as though he’d just been impaled._

_Kolivan stepped closer, unease prickling at his skin. “You can have it.”_

_Keith lifted his hand, watching as the air around it rippled. The barrier was thin here, and it made Kolivan nauseous as he was forced backward a step. This was Keith’s Trial. He could pass between realities, but Kolivan could not._

“ _In our reality,” Kolivan said, not without an edge. “You can have this in our reality.”_

_Keith looked up at him, open longing on his face. “Can I?”_

_Kolivan recognized that ache. The desperate longing, the fear that if he chose duty, he would never again see the kind of happiness the visions promised him._

“ _You can.” Kolivan forced his way forward again, and the shimmer in the air faded. “You’ve pulled back from your team, but you haven’t burned your bridges. Speak to them. I know they all miss you as much as you miss them.”_

_Keith opened his mouth, perhaps to protest that he didn’t miss his kin. He couldn’t force the words out. His breath wavered, his eyes filled with tears-- and the vision shattered around them._

* * *

Kolivan caught Keith as he slumped, his hand falling away from the crystal. He shivered, fingers clutching at Kolivan’s armor.

“It’s over,” Kolivan said. “You’re back.”

Keith nodded wordlessly, but made no move to pull away. Kolivan took advantage of Keith’s moment of weakness, pulling him closer. It felt cheap to have to reduce him to this state through the emotional turmoil of the final Trial, but even so, Kolivan had to be grateful that Keith let Kolivan see him like this.

“I’m sorry.” Kolivan rested his chin atop Keith’s head and thought of the child who had been raised by the Blade, who had cried on Kolivan’s shoulder over a scraped knee, who had mourned his death.

He shoved the false memories aside. That Keith was a figment and a dream, and it was this Keith who needed Kolivan now.

“You came back.”

Keith shifted, making a soft sound of confusion without lifting his head from Kolivan’s chest.

“Everything you were shown. The possibilities laid out before you. And you chose to return to _this_ reality. Why?”

Keith shrugged. “Leaving would’ve been giving up.”

An interesting take, but Kolivan understood what he meant. “I saw how much you wanted what that version of you had with the paladins.”

Keith did pull back then, his eyes searching Kolivan’s like he might find the answers to all his questions written on Kolivan’s face. “I’ve always wanted it. I guess I just never thought it would happen.” He bit his lip. “Did you mean what you said? That I can still have that in this world?”

Kolivan ran his claws through Keith’s hair, smiling as Keith leaned into the touch. “You only have to ask for it.”

* * *

It was late by the time Kolivan and Keith returned to the Castle of Lions, but the other paladins greeted them in the hangar with a flurry of breathless exclamations and reprimands that carried no bite. It seemed Matt and Coran had filled the others in on Keith’s near-sacrifice, and they’d all been frantic to hear that Keith returned to Blade headquarters before they could assure themselves that he was okay. They had, apparently, pestered Antok for close to a varga while Kolivan and Keith were undergoing the Trial.

Shiro was the first across the hangar, crashing into Keith with such force they both stumbled backward into Kolivan.

“Don’t scare me like that,” Shiro said, his voice rough.

Keith froze, his hands hovering over Shiro’s shoulders, but before he could find his voice, Pidge latched onto his waist, Lance, Hunk, and Allura close behind.

“Coran told us,” Allura said. “You could have _died_.”

“I know,” Keith said. “But what was I supposed to do? Nothing else was working.”

“And what about us, huh?” Lance pulled back, scowling at Keith. “What would we have done if you’d gone through with it?”

Keith glared at the wall, blinking back tears. “I wasn’t thinking that far ahead.”

“That’s right you weren’t.” Lance huffed and hugged Keith around the neck, the act somehow petulant.

Hunk was crying outright, unabashed in his display. “It’s bad enough wondering if you went and died on one of your missions with the Blade—uh, no offense,” he added distractedly, glancing at Kolivan. “It’s just—We’re _worried_ about you, man!”

“I know.” Keith’s hands tightened, one on Shiro’s arm, one on Pidge’s. “I know, but—you guys are the first real family I’ve ever had. I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

The collective intake of breath was audible in the sudden silence. Then Hunk cooed and caught Keith up in a hug that lifted not only him, but also Pidge and Allura off their feet. Keith wheezed, and he wasn’t the only one getting teary-eyed.

Kolivan smiled a bittersweet smile, then turned away. They’d already agreed that Keith would be staying here, at least for a few days. He needed his family, and they deserved a little bit of privacy. Kolivan allowed himself a moment to be grateful for the smile lighting Keith’s face. Then he went to show himself out.

“Kolivan! Wait!”

Kolivan froze at Keith’s call, turning as the kit extracted himself from the knot of limbs, swiped at his tears, and hurried over to Kolivan. He hesitated then, rubbing the back of his neck, and Kolivan laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about me, Keith. Go. Be with your kin. We can talk later.”

“No.” Keith grabbed onto Kolivan’s wrist as he made to leave. “Kolivan, I—You saw that other reality.” He dropped his voice low, glancing guiltily toward the other paladins. “You raised me there. You—we were family. I know it wasn’t really _us_ , but...” He shrugged. “It was… nice.”

Kolivan blinked, warmed by Keith’s earnestness. “It was.”

“Look.” Keith let go of Kolivan, crossing his arms. “All I’m saying is, after things calm down… Maybe in a few days…” He blew out a sharp breath that stirred the hair falling over his face. “I’m still a Blade. I still want to train with you. To fight with you.”

Kolivan pulled him into a short hug, rumbling in amusement—and affection. “I’m glad to hear that. Headquarters would be too quiet without you.”

Keith pulled back, grinning, his eyes rimmed in red. There was a fire burning just beneath his skin, a blaze of ambition and determination. It reminded Kolivan of his brother—and this time, Kolivan wouldn’t fail him.

“Go,” Kolivan said, nodding toward the waiting paladins. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art in this chapter was by the awesome [frarivers](https://frarivers.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr! [Reblog it here!](https://frarivers.tumblr.com/post/172029150994/keith-was-alive-its-okay-that-was)


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